Sherlock's Decision
by Dr.Mich
Summary: Sherlock isn't sure how he feels about John and doesn't want to confront him about it. Sherlock is coping... until John returns home.


Sherlock took a deep breath and smoothed his lapel.

He wanted to tell John how he felt, but if he was honest, he didn't know himself.

_John._

_John, who is my partner in crime, the man whom I solve cases with, my best friend._

_But then there is John, the man who looks after me, the man whose smile makes me happy, the man whom I have developed sentiment for._

Sherlock shook his head.

_WHY IS THIS HAPPENING? UGH._

Sherlock sat down on his black, leather chair, with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

**Click.**

_Single turn of the key, John._

_Oh no._

_I need more time, how can I face him like this?_

Sherlock stood up and moved into his bedroom, closing the door.

John entered the flat and placed his shopping bags on the sofa. He stretched his neck and yawned.

"Sherlock?"

_No._

John started walking around the flat.

"Are you here, Sherlock?"

Sherlock stepped backwards, away from the bedroom door, planning to hide beneath the bed in case John went to look in his room... until he walked into his violin case.

Sherlock shut his eyes tightly and cursed under his breath.

John entered Sherlock's room and smiled.

"Ah, there you are. Why didn't you answer when I called?"

Sherlock just stood there.

"...were you hiding from me?"

Sherlock let out a breath.

"Possibly."

"Why?"

Sherlock didn't want to lie to John, but he couldn't bear to tell him the exact truth.

"Busy."

"With what? An experiment? A case?"

"...no.

John raised an eyebrow and moved closer to Sherlock... only for Sherlock to take a step back and trip over his violin case again.

John laughed and reached an arm out to help Sherlock up.

Sherlock looked at the offending hand and then at John's face. He sighed, grabbed John's hand and lifted himself up.

The moment he touched John's hand a jolt of what felt like electricity bolted throughout his body. He shivered and walked past John back to his favourite chair in the living room.

John turned around and followed him, sitting in the chair opposite.

"Do you want me to check you over? You seem a bit on edge."

"NO."

"Sherlock, you're not... oh God please, tell me you're not taking drugs again."

"No, I'm not. That would be a completely thtupid thing to do."

"Sorry, what? Did you just say 'thtupid' instead of stupid? You never lisp! Well, only when you're nervous and that's a rarity in itself!"

"Thhut up, John!"

John giggled but swiftly composed himself when Sherlock gave him a glare.

"Ahem. So, what is it? You can tell me, Sherlock. I'm your friend."

John leaned forward.

"Your best friend."

Sherlock took a deep breath and let it out.

"How would you have felt if I didn't come back after those three years?"

John stood up and started pacing the room.

"Sherlock, you are NOT bringing that up. How do you think I would feel? Anyone would understand that humans become attached to other humans, whether it is through friendship or love. But not YOU, because YOU apparently can't process it."

At this point, John was facing the wall, trying to not make himself any angrier by looking at Sherlock.

"When I was on the roof, when that vile example of a man told me that three of my closest acquaintances were going to be killed, do you know how that felt? I AM human, and contrary to popular belief, I FEEL, John. Too much, sometimes."

John turned around.

"Too much?"

John let out a bark of laughter.

"When?"

Sherlock covered his face.

_When I'm around you, John. When I'm on a case and you're on a date, and you're not there to help me. You're not there to comfort me when I'm close to smoking or taking drugs again. _

_I want to hug you to show you how much you mean to me, it's not the sort of relationship we have, but it's the sort of relationship we COULD have. _

_But no. You're Army Doctor John Watson, the brave man who woos the ladies thinking that it doesn't hurt me. _

_But you know what, John? It does. _

_Terribly. _

_And I think I love you, if I am capable of such a horrible emotion. _

_But you don't love me, John. And it's worse than finding out that Anderson is on forensics, worse than going cold turkey after the drugs, almost worse than when Mummy died. And I loved her a lot._

_I wish you would understand John, sometimes I wish you could deduce as well as me so that I didn't have to tell you. And I'm sorry for ruining your dates. I am a selfish man and I want you for myself. _

_I want you to be the only man I love and the only man that loves me._

_John._

He started to cry.

"Sherlock?"

"I LOVE YOU, YOU IMBECILE."

Sherlock pushed past John to head for the door, but John was too fast and blocked it.

Sherlock tried to shove him out of the way, but John pushed him back.

"How long?"

"Too long."

"HOW. LONG. SHERLOCK?"

Sherlock had now fallen onto the floor, emotions ripping his usual steel exterior to pieces.

"Since the first time you saved my life."

John bent down and lifted Sherlock's chin up.

He looked at the red, tear-ridden face and smiled.

"Me too."

Sherlock began to smile and stood up to hug John.

_My partner in crime, my best friend, my lover._

_My John._


End file.
